"To respect his security, I will not divulge my source, but I have established a means of entering the undercity. My party and I are to to descend to the barcellar one at a time, discretely, until we have assembled. At the end of the evening our contact will provide us further briefing. But come, we have time - I should like to finish my drink and rest my limbs for a while."

Begging your pardons, good sirs, but I understand you're planning an excursion to the catacombs. I am in league with some adventuring dwarves here, and the remnants of a mercenary group that's seen action against the illegal usurpers of Ket. Certainly, the inclusion of our group with yours would reduce the possible shares of treasure. Yet it would logically increase the likelihood of the mission's success, not to mention the likelihood of any of us living long enough to enjoy it. How about we join forces, so to speak?

As the evening begins to grow old, the other patrons conclude their meals and business, and start to thin out; the prospects of the morrow's duties upon their minds... if this large group does not begin to likewise disperse, it will soon be obvious that they linger for some purpose...

Over the course of a half hour or so, the prospective company members depart the main tap room in ones and two; feigning various distractions and counter purposes. The back room is dark and unused except as access to the privy, so vanishing down the cellar stair from there is a matter of simply timing it right.

Boggs the Mouser, with his sharp night eyes, is last to make his way to the cellar, and is pretty sure none of the other patrons have paid any particular attention to the apparent dispersal of this newly formed "company"...